12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter twelve

S ince she held a lantern in one hand and a basket she borrowed from Cook in the other, Charlotte used her shoulder to gently nudge the door closed. She held her breath until the latch clicked into place. Hopefully, the sound did not wake Hugh if he was resting. Although, if he was asleep, then she could not visit with him. On second thought, maybe she should clang and bang and wake the dead so they could talk. What a conundrum.

What a ninny she was. It was late, and she should not begrudge a recovering man his rest simply so she could spend time in his company.

She moved cautiously, running head-first into a human wall. Squealing, she lifted the lantern. Beautiful blue eyes framed by dark lashes peered down at her. The light revealed that the first three buttons of Hugh’s untucked, rumpled shirt were undone, exposing a beguiling amount of tanned skin and the shadow of well-formed muscles. Unfortunately, a fresh blood smear ran from his nose to his ear.

“What’s in there?” He inclined his chin toward her basket. “Please tell me ’tis food.”

“Among other things. Who did this to you?”

“I asked first.” He licked his lips. “My lovely little Firefly, you smell utterly divine. Never, ever change your perfume. And do I also smell ham?” He patted his stomach and winced. “Hell’s teeth, I bloody hurt.”

Apparently, the impossible man did not plan to discuss this newest beating. She would feed him first, then wrangle the information from him.

Charlotte rushed to place the lantern and basket on the table and returned to him. Swooping under his arm, she absorbed some of his body weight and helped him to the table. He grimaced and groaned as he lowered himself onto a chair. She removed her gloves and pushed the bowl of leftover water from the previous evening across the table so that it was easily accessible. Finally, she dragged a chair across the floorboards and sat beside him.

Hugh’s gaze intense, he watched as she retrieved soap and clean linen from the basket.

“You do not expect me to eat that, do you?” He glared at the soap suspiciously before grinning at her. Half dead and still teasing. Heavens, he was adorable.

“You may eat in a moment. First, let me clean your wounds.”

She expected him to argue. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned toward her. If his subtle smile was any indication, he was favorably anticipating her ministrations.

Charlotte dipped the cloth into the water, then lightly blotted his nose.

He moaned .

“Did I hurt you?” she asked as she pulled her hand back.

“No. Keep going.”

She added a dab of soap to the towel and passed it over his cheek. Her gentle cleansing elicited another deep moan.

“I am hurting—”

He opened his eyes and grasped her hand, holding it against his cheek. “It does not hurt.”

Sandwiched between his palm and his cheek, her hand absorbed powerful sparks. Never in her wildest imagination would she have guessed that simply touching a man could send lightning bolts of heat shooting through her. But here she was, feeling as though she were being scorched alive.

“Do not stop,” he demanded. “You make the pain go away.”

Perchance he was moaning from pleasure. After all, she was a burning mass of molten desire.

Heavens above. What kind of woman became overwrought with need while caring for the injured, and why was she just discovering at the age of two and twenty, that she lacked moral discipline? She needed to pull herself together and care for him instead of treating him like a masculine amusement.

Attempting to ignore the humming thrill traveling beneath her skin, she patted at his nose, washing away the last of the blood. Once he was clean, she smeared a dollop of herbal salve onto his cuts. “There,” she said. “As good as new.”

“Hardly.” He chuckled. “May I eat now? Although I could be persuaded to wait a bit longer if you care to crawl onto my lap and ease the rest of my aches.”

As much as she desired this, she should not. Her gaze traveled to the bulge in his trousers that sat atop his muscular thighs. He had a nice lap, indeed. Perfect for straddling—once he was better.

Swallowing hard, she averted her gaze. “You should eat. ”

His frown only lasted a moment. The second she began emptying the basket on the table, his face lit up. She arranged ham slices, a block of cheese, and pickled cauliflower in front of him.

He shoved in meat and spoke with his mouth full. “I cannot remember the last time I ate.” After swallowing, he huffed. “I’ve had a time of it these last few days.”

“You can tell me all about it. I am quite a good listener.” Charlotte could listen to his velvety baritone forever.

“I am sure you are. But my days as a Bow Street Runner are filled with criminals and darkness. Nothing I want to saddle a sparkling Firefly with.”

“I am not as delicate as you think,” Charlotte declared as her inner voice chided, Liar, liar. You have no idea what it is like outside these manor walls. Unless the viper pit of ton ladies who often visited Chesterhill Manor were as vicious as the criminals in the London jails. Hmm? What if the only difference was that the ladies of her class wore lacey frocks and diamond hair pins?

Charlotte smiled like a daft fool as Hugh shoveled in food and talked about growing up in a luxurious inn on the coast. If only she could visit his childhood home?

Spending time with Hugh was beyond delightful. Relief replaced some of her apprehension, for surely, a hungry man was a healthy man—or at least on his way to good health, and until then, she would care for him. It was much more entertaining than needlepoint and suffering Lady Chesterhill’s pretentious social gatherings of cruelty and torture.

Hugh swallowed the last hunk of cheese. “Thank you. That was the best meal I have ever eaten.”

“You are too kind. ’ Twas nothing fancy.”

“I do not care for fancy. I enjoy ham and cheese.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I also rather like bacon and fruit pies.”

She giggled—giggled, for heaven’s sake—like a missish adolescent. “Tomorrow, I shall bring you bacon and apple pie.”

“Mmm . ” His eyelids drooped as if he found pork and pastries seductive.

Charlotte would roll around naked in apples, currants, and sugar and then allow him to lick it from her body if he’d look at her with that much desire. What would it be like to have him eat from her breasts? Or lap up delicacies from between her thighs?

Crossing her legs, she tried to halt the tremors deep inside her secret feminine place.

“Charlotte? Oh, Charlotte.” Hugh waved his hand in front of her. “You seem to be in another world.”

Her cheeks caught fire. “Where were you going?” she asked primarily out of curiosity. However, the question had the added benefit of changing the subject and saving her from having to admit she was engaged in sensual food fantasies.

His brow furrowed. “Going?”

“When I arrived. It looked as if you were leaving.”

He nodded. “Aye, I was.”

Without saying goodbye to her? Well, that hurt like the dickens.

“My father says you got yourself into trouble at your job, so your cousin asked him to look out for you. He claims he hired you to investigate something for him.”

Hugh sucked on the inside of his jaw. “Did he tell you what he wants me to investigate? ”

She’d so hoped he’d deny getting himself into a jumble at work. “Something about his tenants.”

Unblinking, he stared at her as if trying to see into her soul.

“But I do not believe him,” she blabbered, “something else troubles him, but I know not what. However, I am certain Lady Chesterhill is up to no good.”

“She is an unscrupulous harpy,” Hugh said.

How did he know her stepmother? Charlotte sat forward. “Was she here? Are her men the ones who bloodied your nose again?”

“What happened to your dress, Firefly? ’Tis lovely, but something or someone has damaged it.”

This man was a master at evading questions. Since she did not care to lie to him, she’d tell him the truth. “My stepmother’s latest amusement is destroying my clothing.”

“What the bloody hell?”

Charlotte flicked her wrist as if it did not bother her in the least, even though it crushed her heart and strangled her soul. “I believe one of her lady’s maids does it. She has three, so it could be any one of them. Perchance all of them. She also ruins my embroidery.” Charlotte clamped her lips together before she fussed about the constant insults to her weight and physical appearance.

Hugh was so easy to talk to that she continued blabbering. “I am worried she will abuse my pets. I do so love animals. I am certain she did something to my lovebirds. Their names were Romeo and Juliet.”

Hugh’s jaw dropped. “And your father and brother do nothing to stop this?”

“I do not think they are always aware. She is quite devious, and they are often preoccupied with other things.” Charlotte shrugged. “They are quite busy with the marquessate. ”

“It seems you defend your father when he should be chastised for being so oblivious. And your brother can be an absolute arse.”

Tarnation, the truth hurt. “But I love my father and brother.”

Hugh sighed as he pushed away from the table and stood on wobbly legs. “Would you be so kind as to help me to the bed before you leave?”

“Of course,” Charlotte said. However, she was not going anywhere. She planned to spend the night watching over her handsome patient.